Memento Mori
by sherrybaby
Summary: This is from my suggested stories prompt. Soda goes to war and Pony and Darry get a letter saying he is dead. Then, one day Soda shows turns up at the door and it turns out that in the confusion, the letter about Sodapop's death was sent even though he was not dead.


_**Memento Mori**_ (Latin: "remember (that you have) to die")

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Hey all, so this is the first story I wrote from my suggestions. I'm sorry if it's a bit rushed, I thought it was getting pretty long and tried to wrap it up nicely. Dedicated to **Terry** , who gave me the prompt, posted at the end of the story! Enjoy y'all, and thanks again!

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It had been three months since Sodapop was drafted to Vietnam. Three long, weary months. Darry missed his little brother like hell but his roofing jobs hadn't been cutting it lately and very, very, very deep down- so deep he barely recognized it- he was relieved he had one less mouth to feed. Of course, Two-Bit and Steve still elected to spend all their time at the Curtis' home so it didn't make a huge difference.

They barely watched the television anymore, save for Two-Bit. Though, Darry wasn't too upset when he commandeered the set. Mickey Mouse certainly cut through the violent graphic images of flags being burned and boys coming home in bags, and more pieces than they were sent off in. It was enough to make his stomach turn. At nights, they would quietly eat their dinner, Ponyboy with a book in hand more often than not. Fantasies, adventures, even science-fiction. He hadn't touched Gone With The Wind since Soda left. Anything relating to war hit too close to home now. Normally Darry would've told him to knock it off and have some manners, but this wasn't their old normal anymore.

It killed the boys to think of their goofy, loyal, smart, passionate, movie-star looking brother to be out there, fighting a war no one understood. To the world, he was just one of the faceless, nameless soldiers being blamed for this mess, but to their small family, he was so much more. He was the glue that kept everyone together, kept everyone smiling. Darry's brother, Steve's best friend, Two-Bit's partner in crime, Pony's hero. He didn't deserve to have what was left of his youth and innocence ripped away from him, seeing horrors they couldn't even imagine.

Two weeks before Soda's birthday, there was a knock at the door. Ponyboy was in his and Soda's- no, _his_ bedroom doing homework. Pony still had trouble referring to stuff as just his, despite the fact that Soda had been gone for some time. Ponyboy still slept on his own side of the bed, not daring to spread out. He hadn't even bothered to straighten up even though Darry got on his case about it at least three times a week. They left Soda's chair at the table untouched.

Ponyboy stood up and straightened his olive green shirt and brushed his hands against his blue jeans, trying to look somewhat presentable. He hadn't been sleeping well lately. He stopped in the bathroom before answering the door, quickly checking his hair. It was growing out and he briefly wondered if he should get it cut; he didn't want to be mistaken for a hippie- they were lower than greasers on the social scale. They had been moving into huge sprawling houses in the older part of town. Shoot, Pony even heard Randy the Soc had gotten himself involved with them, growing out his hair and wearing peace signs, protesting the war any chance they got. He didn't really understand the war, only that it took his brother and other neighborhood boys away, but that was enough for him to hate it.

Another knock sounded at the door. Through the screen, Ponyboy could see two men in uniform standing on the porch, erect and proper as the soldiers on television. Pony's brow furrowed; he hadn't heard of anyone making visits.

"Mr. Curtis?" The taller of the two's voice boomed out.

"Y-yeah?" Pony stammered.

"Are you the head of the household here?"

"No, that's my brother Darry but he's at work right now." A moment of silence passed and Pony could feel an unspoken question and answer pass between the two men in front of him, though they didn't take their eyes off of him. The shorter man dug into the inside of his jacket and produced an envelope. Pony's mouth went dry for reasons unbeknownst to him.

"This is for your brother." Pony took the letter, questioningly. He closed the screen door before the men could even step off the porch, but he waited until they were out of sight before he ripped the envelope open. He figured it was just a letter from Sodapop. They had gotten a few from him, and promptly attached them to the fridge. Maybe it was just a new- though odd- way of delivering them.

 _The Secretary of the Army has asked me to express his deep regret that your bother, Private (E-1) Sodapop Patrick Curtis died in Vietnam on 24 September 1967, from wounds received while on combat operation when hit by hostile small arms fire._

 _If any articles of private property left by the deceased are found, they will be returned after inspection._

Ponyboy stared at the letter for a long time, re-reading it over and over, not comprehending.

 _Died? What do they mean died?_ It hit him like a ton of bricks.

He couldn't breathe. Tow-Bit and Steve came barreling through the door in high spirits. Why Steve didn't get drafted too, Pony didn't know. In that instant, white hot rage filled him and he wanted nothing more than to put Steve's head through a wall. He was Soda's best friend, and he was here while Pony's brother's body was being scooped up and tossed carelessly in some bag somewhere. He might not ever make it home.

"Hey, Pony!" They greeted him. He shoved the unsuspecting boys out of the way and flew out the door, leaping off the steps, the letter still clutched in his hand. Their confused shouts chased after him on the wind but he was pretty sure he wasn't being followed. He didn't even know where he was going.

His feet carried him to the park. He didn't even realize he wasn't wearing shoes until he stepped on a sharp rock. He collapsed onto the edge of the fountain, not too far from where he felt all of his troubles had begun. The always-oblivious Sheldons had placed a small plaque honoring their son's untimely death. Anyone could tell that's not what Bob would've wanted.

Ponyboy put his head in his hands and screamed. He screamed until his throat burned, until he felt like he was going to drown in tears and snot. He screamed until his voice gave out and there was nothing left. Moving quickly, he grabbed the knife from his back pocket and slammed it down into the fountain rock next to the plaque, chipping away into the stone, carving three names:  
 _  
Johnny  
Dally  
Sodapop_

He heard feet pounding on the pavement and figured his two friends had finally found him. He dropped the knife and backed into a broad chest and strong arms. It was Darry.

"Pony?" His eyes shone with worry. Ponyboy said nothing, instead wiping his face with the hem of this shirt, and holding out the letter. Darry didn't read it, but rather put his arm around the younger boy's shoulders, guiding him home to where Two-Bit and Steve were waiting.

"Where'd ya go, kid?" Two-Bit asked.

"Have you been crying?" Steve seemed genuinely concerned, and Pony felt slightly guilty for all the hatred he'd been harboring towards the boy. After all, he still didn't know his best friend was gone. Pony murmured a "no" before heading into his room; it was definitely his now. He wanted to grieve on his own. Soda wasn't here to comfort him anymore. Every ragged breath he took felt like his chest was being stabbed but he lit a cigarette anyway, fresh tears squeezing out of his eyes as the acidic smoke hit his throat. He sat in his desk chair, staring out into the dark room, trying to work through exactly what had happened. Waiting for Darry to come.

"He was carrying this letter," Darry waved the envelope at his two buddies.

"Open it! Maybe it's from Soda," Steve couldn't hide the excitement in his voice. Darry's dark eyes flicked across the page, rereading the letter as his youngest brother had only hours before. His jaw clenched tight and he looked at his friends concerned expressions.

"He's gone."

Before he could stop himself, tears cascaded down his face. His hand formed into a fist and slammed down, hard, on the counter top. The loud blow made Two- Bit and Steve jump, stunned into silence. Darry left them sitting on the couch and made his way to Ponyboy's room. His baby brother was standing in the middle of the room and was pulled into Darry's arms, almost crushing the kid. They cried themselves to sleep on the couch every night for the next two weeks, heaving, body wracking sobs, trying to put on a brave face for each other, but failing every time.

They spent their days in a haze, going through the motions enough to get by but only just. Pony's grades suffered and he didn't think he'd be able to climb out of this hole. What was the point in living when everything you love is just going to be taken from you? Maybe the hippies did have the right idea. Make peace, not war. Flower power and all that nonsense. The teachers looked at him sympathetic and this time, no one hassled him about any extra credit assignment. He passed with minimal effort, sometimes not even showing up to class.

He couldn't imagine Darry was working through this any better than he was, but it took him a lot less time to get back to ordinary. Pony resented that; as if their brother's death was nothing more than a minor inconvenience- a lost sweater you give up searching for. Pony was always a sensitive soul, same as Soda, same as their mother. He couldn't understand how the world kept turning after so much tragedy. He locked himself in his room more often than not, chain smoking and writing and reading. Even sneaking a few drinks here and there. It helped with the insomnia a little.

Darry just repeated what had become his mantra: _You just don't stop living because you lose someone._ He was wracked with guilt over his previous thoughts of not having another mouth to feed. Money would come and go, but family was forever and in the past two years, they had lost most of theirs. He knew he couldn't just lie down and wait to die, that's not what his family would've wanted. He worked hard to keep them afloat, taking on job and job and responsibility after responsibility until it seemed like he would break under the pressure. He lived for his family, trying to make them proud the only way the young man knew how- by taking care of his loved ones. At night, he would curl up in bed and curse them for leaving him, pleading and begging and bargaining with the heavens to give his family back. He knew it was no use though. They were gone from this world, but their spirits would live on, and Darry would do anything he could to make them proud of the men he and Ponyboy were destined to be.

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Two weeks later, shouts rang through the Curtis household. It was 3 AM, a mere two hours after Darry had gone to bed. He briefly poked his head out from under a blanket and swore under his breath. He would've gone and beat the tar out of whoever was making all the noise, but work had done a number on him these past few weeks and he was too exhausted, mentally and physically, to care. Another loud shout came from the doorway, near the front of the house and he couldn't tell if it was fueled by fear or excitement over some stupid card game. Just before his head hit the pillow, he briefly thought he heard someone say Soda's name, but he was fast asleep before he could make sense of it.

"Darry? Darry, wake up." The lump under the covers made a sound of annoyance, but burrowed further under the warm blanket. Ponyboy shook his brother again.

"Darry!"

"WHAT," the eldest Curtis snapped, glaring at the poor individual before him. Not even a five minutes had passed since Darry had fallen back asleep. Normally Pony would be offended, but his eyes danced with joy.

"He's back."

"Who?" He was still grouchy from this rude awakening; he had to be up in two more hours.

"Soda!" The younger boy grinned so wide, Darry could see all of his teeth. The moonlight made his green eyes extra bright. Darry's stomach churned; the boy had finally lost it. This was Johnny and Dally's deaths all over again.

"Pony," Darry started before the boy waved him off.

"This ain't a hallucination this time, Darry." He shook his brother's shoulder again impatiently then ran towards the door. Darry sighed and followed him out into the living room, pulling a shirt on to accompany his pajama pants. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes he saw Two-Bit and Steve on the couch. Steve had taken up permanent residence and Two-Bit only went home to change nowadays. Pony hovered near the phone by the armchair.

Sitting in the armchair he saw a boy in army fatigues with a short blond crew-cut, and a giant grin on his face. He felt his jaw dropped and his eyes bulge out of his skull. Soda was up in a flash, arms out. Darry picked up his younger brother and spun him around, enveloped in a bear hug. Everyone was too happy and much too shocked for tears tonight. No one could believe it. He had been pronounced dead by the goddamn Army and yet here he was before them, flesh and bone.

"What the hell happened, you crazy sumbitch?" Steve asked as everyone settled down. Their lips were cracking from smiling so hard.

"I'm done. I got a bullet through my foot, remember?" The boy wiggled his foot out in front of him, which was indeed bandaged up. The crutches leaned against the wall by the door. "I bet it'll leave a cool scar," he mused.

"No, you… You died."

"I _what?"_

"Died!"

"I think I would know if that happened." Soda looked at everyone as if they had grown three heads. "What is going on?" Pony jumped up and retrieved the letter he had kept hidden in his desk drawer. He saw Darry raise an eyebrow but Pony just shrugged it off.

"I died? What the f- _oh_." A wave of realization splashed across the young man's face, which, upon first look, was only marred by day-old stubble. The room was still abuzz with excitement, but Darry could finally step back and take a look at his brother. He was as beautiful as ever, though his dark brown eyes looked hollow and lifeless. Looking into them was like looking into a void. He noted the way Soda had a nervous sort of energy, even wose than before. "He had my dog tags. James had my dog tags with him when he was killed. He- he was in my platoon. We were friends. He was gonna marry his girlfriend when we got back… He swiped my tags from me as a joke one night and just never gave them back."

"Can't you get in trouble for that?"

"Yeah," he admitted, ruefully rubbing the back of his neck. "They found mine on him and, well, I still have his." He fished in his pocket for the necklace and held them out. "Guess I should send them to his ma, huh?" Steve clapped his old friend on the back.

"So much for using your head," Darry teased warmly. Soda grinned and playfully punched him in the ribs.

"What'd you do, shoot yourself?" Pony teased. Soda's jaw dropped in mock horror.

"Me? Harm myself to get out of a horrible country, fighting a war we shouldn't be involved in? Seeing babies dying on the side of the road and women being raped and children taken away from all they know to fight? Not knowing if I'll even wake up to fight for survival another day? Not even sure if I can get a job because no one agrees with what we did out there and are more than ready to spit on us? Never!" His laugh had changed too. Instead of the melodic sound it once was, it now was a short harsh bark that made everyone wince. The mood had shifted into uncomfortable silence, the four others exchanging furtive, worried glances. Only Soda didn't seem to notice anything was amiss.

"So, poker and beer, anyone?"

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I hope y'all caught the dual meaning for the title!

Prompt: **Soda goes to war and pony and darry get a letter saying he is dead. Then, one day soda shows turns up at the dor and it turns out that in the confusion the letter about sodapops death was sent even thougn he was not dead. Please do this story!**


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